One Random Box a Day

I had always been faster than everyone else.

"Well, damn—how do you pull off early graduation and a job the second you walk out the door?"

The answer was simple.

"You just work hard."

I came from an ordinary working-class home, so I worked hard not to stay ordinary.

If I had to name what happiness meant by my own measure, it came down to three things. Money, status, and... a woman.

I had joined a conglomerate ranked fourth in the business world, so money and status were more or less in my grasp. What I wanted was a good partner to spend the rest of my life with.

But none of the blind dates ever turned up a woman I actually liked. Five years slipped past that way, and then a junior employee came up to me.

"Hello. I'm Lee Somin. I just started."

Lee Somin. A plain sort of beauty, with a cute little eye-smile.

"Assistant Manager! Could you show me how to do this just once?"

"Assistant Manager, what do you usually do in a case like this?"

"Assistant Manager, Assistant Manager!"

At the company I was the senior ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠assigned to her, and we talked more than anyone else.

"Could you buy me a drink after work today?"

That was how our office romance started, and after three years of dating we made it all the way to the altar.

If I had to name what happiness meant by my own measure, it came down to three things. Money, status, and a woman.

This was the moment I had all three.

But there was one thing I had overlooked. Whatever can be built can just as easily be broken.

After the divorce from that woman, I lived for a while on a loop of office, home, office, and I didn't see a soul. At work everyone seemed to be walking on eggshells around me, voices dropped to a whisper.

I wasn't talking to anyone, and my life felt like it was rotting a little more each day. I couldn't keep living like that forever, so I went out to meet the guys—my bastard friends.

Whatever had them so pleased with themselves, they were already a drink in, cackling among themselves.

"Over here, over here!"

"Well, look who showed up. The socially maladjusted one."

"Kahahaha! You crazy bastard. Is that something you say to a guy who just got divorced?"

They weren't called bastard friends for nothing. Some limp attempt at comfort would only have sunk the mood; being treated exactly like that was, for me, a relief.

I sat, and they filled the empty glass.

"You know what we were talking about?"

"......What?"

"That the biggest winner at this table is you. You're a free man now, aren't you?"

"I'll give you that. Fuck... some of us are stuck living like this because of the kids."

"Same here. Kids are the only reason I can't divorce. Been in separate rooms forever. These days I get home and we don't even talk. Kahahaha!"

Those bastards. They talked big like that, but the truth was there wasn't a more devoted husband among them once they walked through their own front door.

I knocked my glass back alone and went to pour again, but Bald Bongsik, sitting beside me, snatched the bottle and poured for me instead.

Bald Bongsik. The only one of us who still hadn't managed to get married.

"Hey, hey—there's still me, and I haven't even been once. You at least went ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and came back, so call it a good experience and move on."

"Heh heh. Crazy Bongsik. You call that comfort?"

"Anyway, what answer are you gonna find holed up in your room every damn day? The result already happened. You just enjoy the present, right?"

"Yeah, yeah! Everybody, a round!"

"A round!!!"

We knocked our glasses together with a bright, clean ring and drank.

Some of what they said was right. What was going to change if I stayed shut up at home day after day?

If anything, sharing a drink with people I could actually relax around took a little of the tightness out of my chest.

"Keuh—yeah. You guys are right."

"So seriously, how's the divorce treating you? Feel good?"

"Good? Feels like shit."

"Still, no kids—how lucky is that. These days one trip down the aisle isn't even a mark against you. Meet someone decent and remarry."

"Hey, hey, but if he remarries, do we have to cough up wedding money again?"

"Kahahaha! Crazy bastard. Wedding envelopes, my ass."

"No, I was genuinely curious. That's why I asked."

Dahun, beside me, filled the empty glass again as he spoke.

"But why'd you get divorced? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠You didn't tell us a thing either."

"Yeah. That one stings a little."

"......She cheated."

"What?"

"What did you say?!"

The bar went cold. A second ago they'd been needling me and howling; now the anger was written all over their faces.

"You know the usual script. I had a two-day trip set for a weekday, but a downpour hit and the client asked to cancel. Figured the rain was as good an excuse as any, so I picked up chicken feet and a bottle of soju to go and headed home...... and there she was, with the guy she was screwing."

"Where are that fucking bitch and the fucker she cheated with right now?"

"I see those two, I'm cracking skulls."

She had still been my wife not that long ago, and hearing the curses come straight out of my friends' mouths left me with a strange feeling.

"So what did you do when you saw that?"

"What do you think. I pulled the soju bottle and brought it straight down on his head."

"......You really are a guy who doesn't hesitate."

I couldn't swallow the rage of that moment. I smashed the bottle over the man's head, and he was hauled straight to the hospital. After that came talk of criminal charges and the rest of it, and it ended when I settled on the condition that the affair stayed a secret.

"So how'd you split the assets?"

"There wasn't much to split. After we got married I didn't want things to go sour, so I gave Somin whatever she asked for, and the money just never piled up."

"Aigoo, you sucker. I'm only saying this now, but that woman always felt off. You two were all lovey-dovey, so I kept my mouth shut."

"Felt off how?"

"You don't remember? Even that time you sat us down to introduce her, she got a little drunk and started putting her hands all over everybody."

"That wasn't even the half of it. I about fell over when you said you were buying her a Chanel bag—eight million won, nearly seven thousand dollars—for your hundred-day gift."

"I figured she was the woman I was going to marry anyway..."

"A woman you're actually going to marry doesn't ask for that shit, you idiot. You're supposed to earn together and live tight, and if you blow money like water, who do you think pays it all back later?"

"My money is my money. Your money is my money too. Anyone with that mindset, you just filter them out."

None of it was wrong, so I had nothing to say back.

Beside me, Bongsik let out a sigh of relief.

"See, looking at stuff like that, maybe me not being married is the real blessing."

"Bullshit. You think you chose not to? You just couldn't."

"Nuh-uh—I'm voluntarily single."

"If you're voluntarily single, you just don't meet women. What are you doing not even meeting your own hair?"

"Kahahaha! Facts hurt, this bastard."

We howled for a long while, and then, as if we'd all remembered reality at the same time, the gloom settled back over our faces.

"Hoo—married or not, kids or not, I don't know what the right answer is."

"Right. Child support, the apartment loan, the interest... sometimes I feel like I'm just a machine that earns money and hands it over."

"If we just had a lot of money, would everything be happy?"

"Probably. If I had money, I think I'd just live alone."

"Heh. Should've been good with money, like me."

This time Bongsik put on a smug face.

"Dumbass. A guy who ate a delisting to the face wants to talk investing."

"That's not it. That was one time. This time I really asked around properly."

"What is it?"

"Bitcoin."

"Bitcoin?"

"Kahahaha! Hey, don't trust Bongsik. Ppongsik, more like. Listen to that guy and your head'll pop like a bad high."

"No, this time it's real!"

"That stuff's all a scam. The news has yelled about it how many times, and you're gonna walk in like a dumb sucker again?"

"Ugh—just watch. I'll come back a rich man."

"So how much did our Mr. Ppongsik put in?"

"A million won. About a thousand bucks."

The table exploded.

"Puhahahaha! A thousand bucks and you're gonna get rich, sure."

"I'm cashing out at exactly ten times and getting a hair transplant, so everybody watch closely."

The drinking ended, and I headed home on unsteady feet.

No right answer in life... If I really just had a lot of money, would I be happy?

They called it a major corporation, but once the paycheck came in, the loan on the jeonse—the lump-sum deposit that passed for rent—got paid down, and living expenses went out, there wasn't much left in hand. Of course Somin had burned through it like water, but still.

My three measures of happiness. Money, status, and a woman.

Now it felt as if I had none of the three.

And then—

Ding!

"Wh-what?"

A ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chime brushed the edge of my ear, and I jerked my head up.

A single holographic window hung in the air in front of me.

I stared at the window, and my heart started hammering.

Drunk? Or is this a dream?

I pinched my thigh. It was neither. And one holographic window was still floating in front of me.

I swallowed against a dry throat and pressed Y—

A flash.

Light rippled for an instant, bright as a flare, and another hologram opened in front of me.

......

Th-this is real?

The moment the window appeared, the hangover vanished without a trace. In its place came a clarity of mind I had never felt before.